Rescued into Retirement

Florida is one of the top retirement destinations in the country.
Can an abandoned Coonhound leave the hills of rural North Carolina -- with raccoons, bear and mountain lion -- for Fort Lauderdale condo living?

Monday, November 24, 2008

H-Mom and Man-Dad just got theirs in the mail. They both almost started all this crying stuff again. Booker looks just perfect for December. He is happily luxuriating on the leather sofa, his favorite place, and giving the camera that sad, tired coonhound look.

If you need a calendar full of gorgeous dog photos, check it out. The purchase benefits Rescue. H-Mom really loves looking at the hounds. What a remarkable group of all-American dogs.

We are so sad that Booker didn't make it. It's nice to have him in the calendar to show everyone our "poster boy."

This post is from Madison's blog, With Love, Madison. She is the new pup, kissing faces and putting smiles back in place.

Monday, October 20, 2008

The support of every one of our blogging friends has been astoundingly comforting. We have cried through reading your comments, which have made us feel better even though each one inspires a new flood of tears.

Thank you for caring about Booker and about us.

Thank goodness that we found the strength to make a hard decision instead of making excuses for dangerous behavior and tempting fate. That would have been a crueler ending all the way around.

Friday morning, Booker came sheepishly out of his kennel. He knew he was "in trouble" for something, because he had to spend the whole night in there. He certainly didn't remember exactly what he was "in trouble" for. H-Mom hadn't trusted his behavior overnight, and also was worried about a frozen pizza-related bowel explosion.

He ate his breakfast and then was thankful that he was invited out the door for a quick ride to the dog park.

His last morning, he chased Bella, the husky, in circles around the giant lawn and lost her in the woods, when she slipped past him and left him waiting for her in the palm fronds -- he was poised expectantly and she was already on the other side of the park. Booker trailed and treed a "raccoon" on the roof of the tiki hut shelter, barking with determination. He peed on the vending machine, more than once.

Sandy, a friend of H-Mom, who is the companion of Annie the little corgi - also a rescue dog - has volunteered for years at the Humane Society. She was very supportive and also had the advantage of knowing Booker and having watched his rehab-in-progress. Others at the park shared a story of a man who worked in Husky rescue --- a real breed pro --- had worked with a young female for over a year and then had her turn on him in a vicious attack. He was also heartbroken to decide that the best thing was to have her euthanized and released from past demons.

No one wanted anyone at the Humane Society to second-guess H-Mom. The personnel there are so used to people dropping off pets that just don't fit their lifestyle any more. This wasn't a case of a pair of chewed expensive shoes, or pee on the carpet, or barking (LOL ... absolutely not!) or of simple "pet ennui" ... so Sandy went with to the Humane Society.

All the dogs had had their hour romp together. Booker was happy, panting and tired. He hopped into the car and flopped out.

The Behaviorist at the shelter talked with H-Mom at length and concurred with every decision ... everything had been done that could be done, and Booker didn't need to head into the realm of "dangerous dog," with legal and health issues, which is the place that he had tried so hard to get out of, but just couldn't.

He was treated kindly and with compassion by everyone at the H.S., euthanised privately with H-Mom soothing him, and left for the Rainbow Bridge with nothing but dignity and hound-dog grace.

Everyone at the H.S. was crying along with H-Mom, she got hugs all around, and many soothing words. One volunteer talked about a dog she had adopted who, after many months, just snapped and almost killed her cat. Then turned on her.

There will always be glimmers of failure and guilt, but the knowledge that we did the right thing is steadfast.

Friday was rugged, fighting back tears all day and evening. Saturday morning in the wee hours, we had an overwhelming sob.

Now we are calm. There is a hole in our hearts and we know that there is the place for a new companion. Booker left us with unbounding appreciation for the sound of a tail thump on the sofa, a wet nose on your face in the morning and a sideways glance that says, "I've got your back on this one."

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Well my heart is breaking tonight and I am fighting back the tears. We had another DOG INCIDENT ... my daughter left a frozen pizza on the counter (stupid yes I know ... but we are the HUMANS and it is our house ...) and Booker grabbed it and then had an absolutely terrifying rage episode -- he lunged at my daughter on her way from her bedroom to the kitchen and bit her foot. He released his grip and clamped down on her calf. She called me, hysterical (afraid and hurt and confused ... she was crying and crying) and I had to call David to go home and deal with the situation ---

He got there within minutes, and Booker was in the kitchen RAVAGING the frozen pizza. Booker charged out of the kitchen and attacked David at the front door. He bit him twice. He made punctures in David's motorcycle boots. What would he have done on bare flesh? Booker tore his jeans. Booker wouldn't listen, he wouldn't acquiesce, he was a snarling, biting, barking terror. He doesn't "just growl," or "just snap," he ATTACKS. Like an insane cujo attack dog ready, trained, willing and fully capable of killing a mountain lion. I have no illusions about my ability to "control" him. If I would have been the one to run home to save the teen-human from Booker, he would have attacked me too. He crosses a line and he loses all sensibilities and ability to "behave."

David managed to wrestle Booker into his kennel. Jail. Booker sat there for hours, staring into the living room, glassy-eyed.

We cannot live in a home where we need a tranquilizer dart gun to get a swiped pizza away from the dog.

Booker has rage syndrome. Abuse, starvation, brutal hunting training. Something clicked a crazy switch in this dog that is not un-doable.

I am a realist.

Food is his trigger. He is dangerous. He should never have been deemed "adoptable," but who would know until he was in a normal, family situation. There was no pizza on the counter in the vet clinic that nursed him back to health after he was found abandoned.

Now. This is a dog that I have worked so hard with ... SO HARD. We have had the professional trainer consult. I have FIXED every single one of his issues, and believe me, there were many -- lunging at bicycles, going demonic over open car doors, food bowl aggression, toy aggression, pulling on the leash, manic fence-chasing at the dog park -- you name it, I have worked my ass off with this dog. I am really good with dogs and I have no illusions about what to expect or how to train one.

We were ready to sacrifice shoes to a chewer. Swab the decks after accidents. Do short sessions of obedience training that require repetition that could drive you nuts. Manage our environment and spend every minute anticipating behavior and misbehavior.

And I really really love him. omg He is my RESCUE dog and I really put everything into rescuing him. I spend hours a day with him, from the dog park to on-leash walks to training training training. He can hold a SIT STAY in the hallway while I walk all the way down to our condo and come only when I release him. At the dog park, I shout GO HOME and he goes to the gate to wait for me. EVERYONE at the dog park (and there is a "regular" crowd of about 10 people for the 7am time we go) has made comment after comment after compliment about all the work that I've done with Booker and how much he has changed, improved, how admirable he is.

So tomorrow I am going to take him to the humane society and have him put to sleep. The rescue that we got him from said that if ever we cannot keep him, we have to call them to take him back. But they SHOULD NOT rehome him. He is dangerous. It's just a matter of time before he really does some damage that requires a hospital episode. He couldn't be trusted with young children, not at all. Or with visitors.

I don't have to rationalize this. He has a serious, untenable mental defect.

The moon was illuminating the New River last night, making the yachts glow. This morning, it was still hanging in the sky, almost at the western horizon.

Booker is at doggie daycamp today. Working out his weirdness. He was just too agitated to leave him in his kennel. I am at the gallery all day and the street is starting to come to life (is "season" finally here?) It's a bit unsettling here for Booker; he gets cranky when his nap attempts are constantly disturbed by people making dopey faces at him through the gallery window. The guy with the pitbull yesterday, who walked past and then backtracked to encourage a "window fight," put us both over the edge.

So dog camp is a good idea for today. And maybe H-Mom will get a SALE at the gallery today.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Our big friend, the dude, Mango, tagged us to complete the 7 x 7 challenge, so here it is. H-Mom even took a photo of the girl Booker loves, just for this post.

7 Things I Plan To Do Before I Die

1. Go 'coon hunting one more time so that H-Mom and Man-Dad can see how good I am at it -- Man Dad has to bring his gun and flashlight2. See a Treeing Walker at the Westminster Kennel Club3. Steal a whole ham from the kitchen4. Eradicate fleas and ticks from the earth5. Make all humans treat their animals HUMANELY6. Pee on every single vertical surface in Fort Lauderdale7. Hear the Teen-human say "I love you Booker"

7 Things I Do Now

1. Bark a lot, loudly2. Chase all the other dogs at the dog park, barking the whole time3. Find imaginary raccoons in the trees at the dog park, and bark like a wild dog4. Tell the other dogs in the building that I prefer a PRIVATE elevator, by barking loudly5. Fling lots of foamy white slobber when I bark6. Pretend that I'm barking by inhaling and exhaling and making my cheeks puff in and out and looking like I'm in a silent film, barking7. Bark in my sleep, but only in a low rumble

7 Things I Can't Do

1. Maintain a level head and calm temperament at all times -- every once in awhile, I just SNAP2. Make my nose stop leading me to things that get me in trouble3. Resist sneaking on H-Mom and Man-Dad's bed when there is thunder4. Pretend that I don't care when I hear the deli bin open in the refrigerator5. Fetch a ball more than one time, maybe twice, per session6. Pee it all out, in one big leg-lift, because I always save a little bit for the next tree and the next and the next7. Stay away from my blog-friends ... I'm addicted

7 Things That Attract Me To The Opposite Sex

1. Girl dogs who are a little bit bossy, even a little bit bitchy2. Hair that blows in the wind3. A vaguely aloof air4. A girl who runs like an antelope and actually pretends like I can catch her5. A girl dog who is polite around my H-Mom and KNOWS that H-Mom belongs to me6. A dog who knows how to make me jealous by paying more attention to BRUTUS the studly one-year old Doberman ... don't ask ...7. A girl who doesn't even flinch when I bark

The picture above is of Kaylee, my best girl friend. She is such a show-off. I try to look like I don't really care, but everywhere she goes, I am just a few paces away. See me acting like I'm really more interested in some odor in the grass? Nope ... I've got my eyes on her at every minute. Isn't she beautiful?

7 Celebrities That I Admire

1. Droopy, the star of Dumb-Hounded. He looks like a Treeing Walker to H-Mom.

2. Elvis and Leon, the hound dogs in Black Snake Moan-- H-Mom spotted them when she was watching the movie with Man-Dad and she shouted, "Look at the Coonhounds!"3. Old Dan and Little Ann, the hounds in the children's classic Where the Red Fern Grows4. All the hounds working in Search and Rescue, especially the awesome Bloodhounds5. Duke, Jed Clampett's Bloodhound on the Beverly Hillbillies6. Huckleberry Hound, with his southern drawl and plodding determination7. Elvis Presley, because he said he wasn't nothing but a hound dog, how cool is that?